Tonight sleep was not coming to me.
Tears had washed the splinters out of the bruised eyes.
It was becoming extremely hard to pulversize
the legacy, the tendrils of violence.
Wrapped in white shrouds the bodies were laid out
on the grass. The pearly sunlight was ready
to give anything for a name.

The pitted legs, the shattered bones,
black moles of the final darkness. Descending
on the battle ground, parched throats
licking up the dew from the mute bodies of ancestors.
I would eat death, shapeless, as blunt
questions, as medallions. Millions of years will be ready
to make out the fossils of time machines.

Are not the pinnacles of snow shining on the
mountains of silent hate? You keep the windows
open, so that the blasts does not shatter the glass.
When this calamity will end? The new born
babies are thrown out on heaps of garbage, bloody
rags of unhinged bloughs. A hunch-backed
god was tottering on the broken planks.

I do not believe that God wants us to treat His world with the disrespect that we do. We are the ones who desecrate His creations, not Him.

Satish,

I have trouble commenting on your poetry because I don't know where you are coming from in your writings.; the issues you are addressing, the life styles you are describing. It might help me, and others, if you would take time to explain your poems in the Author's Notes window just below the window where you post your poems. If I can't understand them, I can't comment on them. I enjoy reading them, I just don't understand them well enough to make an intelligent comment.